Six Months of Genocide

For the Love of: Palestine

This weekend marks six months of Israel’s genocidal campaign against the people in Gaza and broader Palestine. I’m confused by those who are still not angry. I find anger so clarifying, so directing, so, in its own way, empowering. There’s so much to be angry about—our government’s complicity, our elected officials’ endless and blatant lies, mainstream media’s continued silencing of Palestinian voices, and (oh right) the endless bullshit of corporate America telling us to keep going while witnessing Palestinians of all ages beg for global attention and protection. This list isn’t even comprehensive. I could go on and on about what to be angry about. I could link to a thousand different things that all warrant anger. How is it that others can’t bring themselves to be angry over just one of these many horrors?

I recently watched footage of Israel targetting and murdering a civilian man as he walked to find food for his family. I can’t even find this video anymore because this story is not singular. It’s one of thousands. Pick a day, any day, and the same brutal footage is released. How is it possible that I keep having to remind myself that none of this is normal? That what I am witnessing is catastrophic. These last six months have made me feel as though I am learning a new language. I keep searching for new words that accurately describe what I am watching, what I am feeling—I keep coming up short. Unfathomable. It’s unfathomable. Is that the best I have to remind myself that what we are watching in Gaza is not only real but fucking inhumane? Swearing helps, but only a little.

But what I’ve been trying to make sense of recently are those who believe that colonialism doesn’t touch them (LOL). These are the same people who like to say that they don’t care for politics. Lucky them. They are the people who separate themselves from structural inequities, likely because they benefit from them. But being political is not a choice for those of us whose very being has historically been politicized to fit Western narratives.

And yet, I was reminded recently that on average every seven days a country around the world celebrates its independence from Britain, the very colonial power that gave the Zionist movement their “right” to occupy Palestine. More countries were colonized by England than any other country in the world. The likelihood of colonialism not impacting one’s life is slim to none.

To watch what’s happening in Palestine and remain unmoved is, perhaps, one thing. Catch me in real life and I have a lot of choice words for those who somehow are carrying on with their days and not feeling the impossible weight of every single one of these Palestinian lives. But, damn, to insist that there is a difference between yourself and the people of Palestine currently fighting for their freedom from an oppressive military regime feels so incredibly… ironic.

Let me say it again: the Palestinian people are fighting for freedom and it is, in fact, the same freedom that the majority of this country celebrates every year on July 4th. They are fighting for the same quality of life that every other country that celebrates their independence from Britain is rightly cheering for. The *nuances* of the colonial power Palestinians are fighting against don’t actually change the facts. Colonial is as Colonial does.

It’s such a mindfuck to me—living in a nation that prides itself on freedom and justice, and blah blah blah meanwhile we can’t stand to watch others fight for those same rights. The power of the colonial narrative is so normalized and dominant that it is taken for granted. It’s as natural as the world turning.

What I’m trying to say is that colonialism touches every single one of us, it does the moment we are taught to memorize the Pledge of Allegiance. The United States is a nation that was born from this narrative of freedom from colonial power and, yet, we deny it to every other nation that is not in line with our best interests.

Like politics, the reverberations of colonialism most clearly touch marginalized communities. But at some point or another, I believe it touches every single one of us—it’s just so damn normal that we forget.

We forget that colonialism is the five-day workweek. It is your 6 AM alarm. It is the unpaid paternity leave and the never-enough maternity care. It is the student debt, the credit card debt, the healthcare debt. It is capital gain tax rates, tax deductions, tax credits, estate tax exemptions, and tax havens and offshore accounts all of which benefit the rich and systematically dismiss the poor. It is the privatization of public services. It is our government condemning violence while sending the very weapons that perpetuate it. It is the underfunding and neglect of public schools in marginalized communities. It is our Flint water crisis just as much as it is our migrant crisis, refugee crisis, and climate change crisis. It is, it is, it is. I can keep going, but I’m too tired but trust me, it is.

Colonialism is all of these things and more. It touches every single one of us, whether we like it or not. But it would benefit us all if we started acknowledging this truth—if we continued to find language that calls out all the small ways that colonialism dictates our days and way of life.

This weekend marks six months of Israel’s genocidal campaign against the people in Gaza and broader Palestine. Editors I’m currently working with have told me that this sentence cannot stand alone—that the sentence demands context. They want me to write that the genocide started or began as a “retaliation” to the October 7th attacks. They want me to ensure readers know that violence occurred as a result of Palestinians’ missteps. They want me to validate the status quo of dominating colonial narratives which is that colonialism has to exist because it has always existed. They want me to make sure that this violence is blamed on something other than what it is, colonialism. Let’s not forget that marginalized communities are easier to control when fighting separate fights.

But it is colonialism. And it’s actually that simple.